


Justified

by okapi



Category: The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner - James Hogg
Genre: Anal Sex, Doppelcest, Doppelganger, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Reference to child flogging, Religious Fanaticism, Selfcest, references to murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: Gil-Martin may be Robert Wringhim's evil side or he may be the Devil himself.James Hogg'sThe Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner(1824).
Relationships: Robert Wringhim/Gil-Martin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3
Collections: Corsets & Lemons 2019 round - 1800 literature, The 100 Multifandom Challenge





	Justified

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW 19th Century Corsets and Lemons kink meme. The prompt was: _Sexy selfcest murder persuasion_. Also for the DW 100 fandoms prompt 085. trailed.

I was never long out of the society of Gil-Martin. One day, soon after our acquaintance, I trailed after him to his rooms, talking until the hour grew late. Then, at last, just when I was about to take my leave of him, my friend said,

“Do you remember M’Gill?”

I started and frowned. “Were you and I at school together?”

“No, but you mentioned him.”

I did not remember doing any such thing. 

My friend ignored my confusion. “Tell me about the drawings in the algebra book, how you connived that he should be punished for your sketches of the schoolmaster in his note-book.” 

I recounted an abbreviated version of the event. 

“M’Gill was flogged?”

“Yes, the whole weight of the schoolmaster’s vengeance fell upon him.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there.”

“You witnessed it?”

“Yes,” I said a bit breathlessly and then, for no reason at all, added, “I was once in hopes that the schoolmaster would not leave life in him.”

My friend hummed and moved closer to me. “And, afterwards,” he whispered, his eyes raking up and down my body, “did your corporal form rejoice?” 

I watched, mesmerised, my eyes trailing behind his extended index finger, which fell slowly but without touching me, from my torso to my waist, first pointing at my heart, then at my belly, then lower. 

“Yes,” I groaned. My body was, indeed, remembering the flesh stirrings which M’Gill’s punishment had provoked.

“His bare bottom, the master’s birch, the swishing, how the pale skin reddened, his tears, his trembling?”

“Oh, yes,” I sighed, watching as the finger rose back up to my heart. By then, my chest was heaving violently.

“Did M’Gill make water? Did he bleed from the scourge of the birch?”  
I only grunted, the recollected sensations flooding my body and leaving the faculty of memory itself in a thick fog.

“The exaltation you felt then, the exaltation you are remembering now, is just a taste of the righteousness to come, you who are preordained to be a champion of the Gospel, you who were are chosen to cut sinners off with the sword.” 

At some point, without my realising it, my friend had slipped to the floor and was now kneeling before me. 

“Shall we not end this day’s sweet communion and fellowship by you, with all heroic magnanimity, allowing me to render all the service of which my poor abilities are capable?” he asked. 

Such trust, such words spoken in such earnest, fervent, flattering supplication, what else could I do but assent?

He freed my stiff member from its confines and began to suckle it tenderly like a newborn babe. 

“Think of M’Gill,” I heard him say or, perhaps only thought I heard him say. “Of his pale skin reddening. Of his wretched tears. Of the sting of the birch.” 

He licked up and down my shaft, then took my whole member in his mouth, and with the tortured cry rent from M’Gill’s lips in my ears, I found my release and spent my seed down the back of his throat.

He sat back and said, “How much merit is there in the great atonement to annihilate all your sins, heinous and petty?”

* * *

“I would have your company tonight,” said my friend on the second evening I passed in Edinburgh after the death of Mister Blanchard. 

A certain thrill beset me as I had longed to share longings with my friend, and he’d refused my offer outright. You see, in the nights leading up the final confrontation with Blanchard, I dreamt of a great triumph, parts dimly and confusedly divined, but at least two parts of the dream were quite lucid: one, that ridding the world of Mister Blanchard was a first step to much greater glory, and that, two, such a step would be rewarded, not only in heaven, but by the ministration of heaven’s representative, namely, my friend Gil-Martin.

The reward took a precise form. Indeed, with every iteration of the dream, I was allowed an additional thrust of my hard member in the tight crease of my friend’s clasped thighs. The first night’s dream it was only one push, which anyone with any sensibilities will recognise as supremely frustrating. Then it was two thrusts, then three, and so on. 

“Tell me about the rest of your dream,” said my friend when we lay together in his cot. His fingers were once more trailing up and down my body, touching me with astounding intimacy and supreme reverence.   
How he knew I’d been holding back details prior to that moment, I never discovered. 

I confessed all, and he smiled and generously offered me the use of his flesh, specifically, the slicked gap of his thighs, which I eagerly accepted and used in much the same manner of my dream, but, of course, in the waking instance, not halting until I had found my physical, and spiritual, release and spent freely.

“How blessed are you to be among the elect,” he whispered. “How blessed that the justified can do no wrong. How blessed is the perfect safety of your soul, a matter settled since the beginning of time, ratified in heaven and earth.” 

There was no mocking in his tone whatsoever, and his words buoyed me beyond measure. 

And as we lay, side by side, his fingers still trailing up and down my damp skin, he asked, his hot breath stirring me anew, 

“Do you never consider…?” 

His voice trailed away as his fingertip found my orifice and teased it.   
I hadn’t considered it, but I did then. And I was in deepest consideration when I realised my rudeness: my friend was still speaking.

“…how the swords of the righteous might be consecrated with oaths and vows as well as a sheathing most justified?”

He twisted, turning his back to me and reaching for my leg and bringing it forward to drape it over his own, and I surrendered to the urge to take the head of my flaccid prick and nudge at his hole.

He hummed. 

“You were called to a high vocation and great will your reward be thereafter and, here, right here, if you slay your most sinful relation, your brother.” Then, without another word, he jerked away and punted me out into the street, barely dressed. 

After that, the thought trailed after me like an obedient servant. No matter my weak-minded objections or my puny hesitations in administering due vengeance on my wicked brother, the notion that I would, after the deed was done, not only enjoy another benediction in the ledger of the righteous but also be permitted to enjoy that particular act upon my friend’s person was a beacon and a tongue of flame. It led me on and filled me with sanctified strength. 

And when my brother was slain and I was mounting my friend and taking him hard and fast, I felt that the hand of Heaven must, indeed, be aiding and abetting me. I have said that my friend’s activity and act were without parallel, and so it was that these activities and acts included the liberty he permitted me with his person when he was well satisfied with my conduct. And, for my part, to spend myself deep inside my friend as I swore oaths to him and to the Almighty whom we both served was the sweetest and most justified reward I could ever have imagined. There are many instances in holy writ when the Lord takes pleasure, great, deep, groaning, throbbing pleasure, in the final extinction of the wicked and the profane, and I set myself in the image of the Lord in this manner as I sank my member over and over into my friend’s welcoming body. 

Sometime later, as I lay in state of blissful bonelessness beside him, my friend remarked that when my father was dead and I was laird, I would be able to take undisputed possession of Dalcastle, its lands, and all of my father’s effects and that, at such time, he and I could share moments, intimacies, and rewards as freely and as often as we wished. 

Taking him whenever I wished! The possibilities multiplied in my imagination as he himself was rising and dressing and ordering me to do so. I had long nurtured a secret desire to lay with my friend in plain air, perhaps by a body of water, a creek or stream. My mind also returned again and again to M’Gill’s birching and the notion that my friend and I might find a sinful youth to punish similarly punish for transgressions. There must be hundreds.

And so it was that I trailed after my friend and his plans, and so it was that he continued to flatter me with great things and hold out sweet promises, and so it was that the consecrated youth who could not err was led further and further down a path from which only his justified station could deliver him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
